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The reason is the poor, and their pride.
They want the poetry—not, a poetry.
When you need to work, there is no place to hide.
A poet, lazily dreaming, is no longer poor; the poor
Are employed in public transport; they labor, they stumble,
And celebrities who sing “Imagine” on Zoom don’t want to do these things.
The celebrities are living dreams of money, lust, and pride,
Which you and I must keep inside.
I betray poetry in this poem;
I cannot escape the poor;
The poor worker is what I am.
And I am not a poet; I am a religious man.
Anyone who is a little bit conservative
Has but one celebrity—
You preach poetries.
But there is only one poetry.
And it is not poetry.
